by Marie Force
“What are you doing up so early?”
Covering his hands with hers, she trembled from what he was doing to her neck. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”
“I couldn’t find you.”
Against her back, she felt his arousal.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
With a last glance at the sunrise, she let him take her to bed.
Michael held her close to him and tried to catch his breath as his heart hammered in his chest. Would it always be like this with her? What had been hot and passionate with Paige was all of that with Juliana and so much more. “It’s still early.” He kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t you try to go back to sleep for a while?”
She laughed softly. “You’ve got me wide awake.”
He propped himself up on one elbow. “Let’s get the hell out of here for the weekend, Juliana,” he pleaded. “I want to take you to Rhode Island. Please go with me?”
After studying him for a moment, she said, “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
She brought him down for a kiss. “I’ll have to bribe my brother to take care of my mother for the weekend, but he’ll do it.”
“Why don’t we just get up now and go? I have a couple of things I have to do, and then we can hit the road.”
“I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“I’ll order us some breakfast.” He gave her one last kiss before he released her. “Any preferences?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Once again Michael was struck by the differences between Juliana and Paige, who would’ve had a very specific request. In just a few weeks with Juliana, the idea of being married to Paige had become preposterous. He pulled on a pair of gym shorts, called in the room service order, and opened the door to the hallway to get the paper.
“Morning, Mr. Maguire,” the police officer on duty said. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. I’ll need a lift to my house in about an hour if that’s okay.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks.”
Michael took the paper back into the room and wasn’t surprised to find a story about the vandalism to his house above the fold on the front page of the Baltimore Sun.
[LTR]
Benedetti Prosecutor Victim of Vandalism
The home of Michael Maguire, lead prosecutor in the ongoing murder trial of Marco and Steven Benedetti, was vandalized on Thursday evening. A large rock was thrown through the window of Maguire’s Butchers Hill home. Maguire’s roommate suffered minor injuries. He was not home at the time.
The Benedetti brothers face first-degree murder charges in the slayings of three city teenagers a year ago. The trial, in recess today for an unrelated matter, will resume next week in Baltimore City Circuit Court.
Police refused to comment on whether the incident is related to the trial, nor would they release any further details.
A spokesman for Maguire’s employer, Baltimore City State’s Attorney Tom Houlihan, had no comment.
Calls to Circuit Court Judge Harvey Stein, who is presiding over the trial, were not returned by press time.
[END LTR]
Michael was relieved that Tom had succeeded in keeping Juliana’s name out of the story.
She came out of the bathroom. “Shower’s all yours.”
“The story is in the paper.” He handed it to her. “No details, though.”
“Good.” But she winced as she scanned the article. “It mentions your roommate was injured. I need to make a phone call.” She dug her cell phone out of her purse. When she turned it on, it beeped with multiple messages. She found the number she was looking for and pressed send. “Hey, Mrs. R, it’s me.” Pausing, she said, “It’s just a tiny cut. Honest.” Another pause. “We have cops all around us. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re going out of town for the weekend, but I’ll come by before we go, okay?” Juliana nodded. “I will,” she said, closing her phone to end the call.
“What was that all about?” Michael asked on his way to the shower.
“Our neighbor. She’s like a mother to me. She’s the only one who knows I’ve been staying with you, so I knew she’d panic when she saw the paper.”
“So you told someone about me, huh?” he asked with a satisfied smile.
She grinned. “Go take a shower.” After Michael closed the door, she called Vincent.
“What?” he roared.
“Sorry. I forgot how early it is.”
“What do you want, Juliana?”
“You have to take care of Ma this weekend.”
“I don’t gotta do nothing.”
“I’m going away, so it’s you or no one unless you can get Dona to help you.”
He snorted. “As if. Are you off to see Mr. Wonderful again?”
“No. I’ll be back Sunday night. Check on her, Vin. She’s been worse than usual lately.”
“She’s living on booze. I can’t ever get her to eat anything.”
“We’re going to have to do something about that one of these days.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for the help.”
“I’m going back to sleep.”
An hour later, Michael and Juliana were driven home by a police officer.
“Let me go in ahead of you,” the cop said.
“The window’s already fixed,” Michael noticed.
“Your boss took care of that himself. A guy who grew up in Canton with Houlihan was over here at eleven last night to fix it.”
“That’s good of him,” Juliana said.
“Everything seems okay,” the cop said. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
“We’ll be leaving town until Sunday night,” Michael said.
“I’ll need to know where you’re going. Houlihan wants someone on both of you until the trial is over. Maybe even beyond that.”
“We’ll be in Rhode Island, so we won’t need coverage there,” Michael insisted. “I’ll talk to Houlihan. Someone needs to be with Juliana for about an hour while I take care of something, and then we’re good until Sunday.”
“Okay,” the cop said and left them.
Michael watched Juliana fixate on the open space in the room, the coffee table’s absence a glaring reminder of what happened the night before.
Michael tugged her hand. “Come on.”
“They did a good job cleaning up,” she said softly. “You’d never know.”
Her steered her up the stairs. “Let’s pack and get out of here.”
Two officers in a police cruiser followed them to Mrs. Romanello’s house.
“Will you come in for a minute?” Juliana asked Michael. “I’d like you to meet her.”
“Sure.”
He wore a black sweater with faded jeans, but Juliana knew that when she pictured him, she would always see him in a suit.
“Where’s your house?”
Juliana pointed. “That one.”
He glanced at it and followed her up the stairs to Mrs. R’s front door.
“Hey,” she called when they walked in. They followed the sound of a mixer running in the kitchen. Juliana kissed the older woman’s cheek.
“Oh, hon, let me see.” Mrs. R turned off the mixer and tipped Juliana’s face so she could get a better look at the wound. “It shouldn’t leave a scar.”
“I’m not worried about it,” Juliana said, touched by her friend’s concern. “This is Michael Maguire.”
Mrs. R sized him up and reached out to shake his hand. “Hello.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’m not pleased about this, young man.” She gestured to Juliana’s face.
“Believe me, I’m not either.”
“You’ll come stay here,” Mrs. R said to Juliana.
“That’s a good idea,” Michael agreed. “We’re going out of town for a few days, and then Juliana will come stay here until the trial’s over.”
“Hello, I’m in the room,” Ju
liana protested. “I’m not moving out, Michael, so you can both stop running my life.”
“It’s not safe at my house,” he insisted.
“Are you staying there?”
“Well… Yeah.”
“If you’re staying, I’m staying.” She gave him a look that let him know the subject was closed. “Go do what you need to do so we can get going,” she said with a nudge to get him moving.
“I’ll be less than an hour,” he told Juliana. To Mrs. R he said, “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too. Keep this girl safe, do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, hesitating.
Juliana realized he wanted to kiss her, so she walked him to the front door.
He slipped his arms around her. “While I’m gone, how about you go next door and find something you can bring with you to wear in a place where there’s candles and wine and music, okay? Something you’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
Amused, she asked, “How do you know I have something like that?”
“I know you.”
“Hurry back,” she said with a lingering kiss.
Groaning, he tore himself away from her. “I will.”
Juliana watched him go and then returned to the kitchen.
“Oh, Juliana,” Mrs. R said with a hand over her heart. “Oh, hon. What in the world are you going to do?”
“I love him.”
“I can see that.” Mrs. R put an arm around Juliana, leading her to sit at the kitchen table. “You’ve been with him. I see that, too.”
Juliana’s face burned with embarrassment. “Yes,” she said in a whisper.
“Where are you going this weekend?”
“To Rhode Island where his family lives.”
“Every minute you spend with him gets you deeper into this. You know that, don’t you?”
Juliana nodded. “I just need to be with him right now. Maybe I’ll feel differently when I see Jeremy again, but for now, this is what I want. He’s what I want.”
Mrs. Romanello clutched Juliana’s hand. “God bless you, hon. God bless you all.”
Chapter 18
Juliana went next door to pick up the mail and the dress Michael asked her to bring. She left two more letters from Jeremy unopened on the kitchen table. The house smelled musty and a thin layer of dust covered every surface. She would have to get over here to clean next week.
Michael was back in forty-five minutes. They bid Mrs. Romanello and their police detail good-bye and headed north on Interstate 95 to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. As they left Baltimore and all their troubles behind, Juliana began to relax.
“How long will it take to get there?”
“Six or seven hours, depending on the traffic on the Jersey Turnpike, the Cross Bronx Expressway, and in Connecticut, which is always the worst.”
“Do you usually fly or drive?”
“I fly because I never have much time, but I prefer to drive.”
“If I had this car, I’d prefer to drive, too.”
“Want to?”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
He pulled over. “Really.”
Juliana clapped her hands with glee and jumped out of the car to change places with him. Once in the driver’s seat, she put on her seatbelt, shifted the car into first gear, and hit the gas.
“Jesus!” he said, gripping the armrest with alarm.
Juliana smiled at him. “Hold on to your hat, baby.”
“I’ve never gotten to Connecticut this fast—ever,” Michael said just over three hours later. “How about giving me a turn?”
Juliana smiled. “Nope. I’m having too much fun.”
He cringed when she darted between two semis. “You’re stressing me out.”
“Don’t look.”
“The way you’re changing lanes, I’ll puke if I close my eyes.”
“I never knew you were such a wimp.”
“You weren’t calling me a wimp last night.”
Snorting, she glanced over at him. “Just a tad bit full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Watch the road!”
Cruising along the southern coast of Connecticut, Juliana confessed that she hadn’t been to New England before.
“Never?”
“Nope. We didn’t really go anywhere when I was growing up. A daytrip to Ocean City was a big deal.”
He reached for her hand. “You didn’t have an easy go of it as a kid, did you?”
She shrugged. “It was what it was. Most of the time, it was just my parents and me since the next oldest—Vincent—was eight years older than me.”
“And your parents were unhappy together?”
“That’s putting it mildly. They fought like cats and dogs—when my mother wasn’t loaded, that is.”
“Your brothers and sisters weren’t around?”
“Not unless they had to be. They all moved out as soon as they turned eighteen.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well, by then my father was heavily into his ‘extracurricular activities,’ as my mother called them, and she was hitting the bottle pretty hard. I just felt like I needed to be there with her.”
“So how did you end up moving out?”
She glanced over at him and then back at the road.
“Juliana?”
“Jeremy kind of put his foot down about it. He hates the way my family treats me, so he insisted I move out of my mother’s house and in with him.”
“He insisted?”
“He gave me the push I needed to do something about a bad situation.”
“Like an ultimatum?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He didn’t give me an ultimatum, Michael. It wasn’t like that.”
“It’s none of my business,” Michael said, looking out the passenger window.
Juliana tugged on his hand. “Hey. Don’t check out on me. What’re you thinking?”
“I forget sometimes that you’re not really free. Then I’ll remember all of a sudden, and it just kind of hits me right here.” He ran a hand over his gut.
She sighed.
He looked over at her. “What am I going to do if you go back to him?”
“Can we not do this?” she pleaded. “I don’t have to make any decisions today, tomorrow, or even the next day. Can we just be together for now?”
He studied her for a long time before he answered. “I guess we can do that.” Kissing her hand, he added, “For now.”
They stopped for lunch in Mystic, Connecticut, where Michael managed to wrestle the keys away from Juliana.
“It’s so pretty,” she said an hour later as she looked out over Narragansett Bay from the top of the Newport Bridge. “This bridge reminds me of the Bay Bridge,” she said, referring to the span over the Chesapeake Bay that connects the Annapolis area to Maryland’s Eastern Shore.
“That bridge looks like it was assembled from a bridge yard sale, like ten different kinds of bridges all in one.”
Juliana laughed. “You’re right. It does. Oh, look, there’s a house sitting on the rocks out there!”
“The house is called ‘Clingstone.’”
“I love that!”
He took the Newport exit, and as they drove between two cemeteries, he said, “Guess what the name of this street is?”
“Cemetery Way?”
He shook his head. “Farewell Street.”
“Oh,” she said with a chuckle. “That’s a good one.”
“In the summer this road is jam-packed with cars,” he said of America’s Cup Avenue.
“It seems almost familiar in some ways. I wonder why.”
“Annapolis reminds me a lot of Newport. The colonial houses, the gas streetlamps, and the cobblestone streets are so similar.”
“And there’s a harbor here, too. Just like Annapolis.”
He took a right on to Lower Thames Street. “This part of Newport is called the Fifth Ward,” Michae
l said when they had traveled about a mile down Lower Thames. “It’s where all the Irish people live.”
“Like Little Italy in Baltimore.”
“Yes, sort of,” he said, pulling into a driveway on Carroll Avenue.
They stretched out the kinks from the long ride.
“This is it.” He gestured to the small ranch house. “This is where I grew up. We used to play baseball at the park we passed at the corner.”
“Are your parents home?”
“I’m not sure what their schedules are today. I didn’t tell them we were coming.”
“What?”
He laughed, put an arm around her, and kissed her cheek. “Don’t sweat it, baby. They’ll be thrilled to meet you.” He tugged her along with him and used a key on his ring to unlock the door. It took him about five minutes to show her around the small, tidy house that smelled of lemon furniture polish and potpourri.
“Oh, is that you?” Juliana asked, pointing to a faded framed photo in the hallway.
Michael grimaced. “I think that was seventh grade.”
“You were so cute!”
“Were?”
Giggling, she studied the other photos on the wall.
“That’s Pat.”
“You looked alike.”
“That’s what people said.”
The bedroom that used to be Michael’s was now filled with toys belonging to his nieces and nephews. Another bedroom contained twin beds.
“For grandkid sleepovers,” Michael explained, leading her back to the kitchen. He went to peek into the garage. Returning to her, his arms circled her waist. “No one’s home,” he whispered against her lips.
She pushed him away. “Stop it!”
“What?” he asked, his lips quirking with amusement.
“We’re in your parents’ house. Behave.”
“Why?” He backed her up against the kitchen counter for a searing kiss.
“Michael, stop,” she pleaded when he kissed her again.
“I’ve needed this for hours.” He held her tight against him as he teased and tormented with his lips and hands until she was breathless.
She moaned when he went to work on her neck and throat. “Stop,” she whispered.
He cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over her nipples. “I want you.”